


Coffee and Anxiety

by PartiallyBlind



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, Reader-Insert, XReader, both moriartys are manipulative but jim is more so, i have no idea what im doing, local consulting criminal has crush on consulting detective more on this at 11, reader has anxiety, reader is also an assassin, reader is also jims sister, reader is secretly a BAMF, theres a starkid reference in there. its pretty big, theyre murder siblings yo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PartiallyBlind/pseuds/PartiallyBlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock."<br/>"W-what?"<br/>"My name is Sherlock."<br/>"O-oh... My n-name is (Name)."<br/>"You have social anxiety."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Regular, plain, black coffee. Bitter, tasty, delightful.

The words ran through the girls head, followed by an, Oh and a pumpkin spice latte for Jim.  
Also a coffee with five sugars for Seb.

The girl smiled to herself as she entered the shop. She was confident that she was ready. The line was short.  
Much too short for her taste, but, as she reached the front of the line, a man came up behind her.  
"I'll get two regular black coffees, a pumpkin spice latte, and a..." The man looked at her. "Another coffee with five sugars." He finished as he pulled out some cash. He gave it to the lady working the register. "You two make a cute couple." The lady commented.  
"Actually w-we-"  
"Hm? Oh you're right. I believe we make a splendid couple." The man muttered the name to put on the cups before dragging (Name) over to a table.

The two grabbed their regular black coffees before going and sitting down at a small, secluded table.

"Sherlock."  
"W-what?"  
"My name is Sherlock."  
"O-oh... My n-name is (Name)."  
"You have social anxiety."  
She frowned up at him. "Um..."  
"How did I know that? Easy. You're staying with someone to get over your horrible fear of people. You don't seem stressed at all, except in public, meaning you aren't currently employed. Heart pounding, blushing, sweating, shaking. You're clearing panicked. You have a brother. He's... important and dangerous, yet you feel comfortable with him."

"N-no I was going to tha-thank you for helping me." She replied quietly. "But, on the subject of analyzing, let me try."  
Sherlock nodded.  
"You aren't exactly a narcissist, but borderline. Struggling with an addiction maybe? You're wearing three patches right now. You technically are not employed by Scotland Yard, though you do work cases there. You have a brother, Mycroft Holmes, he loves cake and more importantly loves spying on you. You also have a flatmate. John Watson. Afghanistan or Iraq?"  
He stared at her in surprise. "Afghanistan. That was too easy. Try the girl at the register."

"19. She's struggling with an addiction to caffeine and, though she works at a cafe, she can't afford a machine or really coffee at all for that matter. She's hope her writing career will take off so she won't have to worry about money. Her mums in the hospital, she has two low life brothers, they owe money to my brother..." The girl paused, thinking, _'I'm going to have to have to handle that.'_ "She's currently writing a story and we're her new inspiration. That's why you faked us being a couple. You're not so cold after all."  
"And you're not so anxious when you're in your element."

"W-well, I-I like analyzing people."  
"Of course."  
"Jim, Seb, and (Name)?" A voice called suddenly from the counter. "O-oh, well, that's me." She stood up quickly. "T-thank you for, um..." (Name) looked down. "Helping me."  
Sherlock nodded.

(Name) quickly scurried over to the counter and took her drinks before turning to Sherlock and smiling a bit. "Bye." She mouthed as she left.

 

 

 

 

 

  
"Ah! (Name), what took you so long?!"  
"S-sorry, Jim. I had, uhhh..." (Name) set the drinks down before taking off her, currently blood stained, gloves. Sebastian walked in and grabbed his drink.  
"Business to do."  
"Coffees cold. Someone bothering you?" Sebastian asked.  
"Well... I found someone that owed us. I also met someone... Nice."  
"Oooo do tell. What's his or her name?" Jim spoke.  
"Sherlock Holmes."  
Sebastian spit out his drink.

 

"Sherlock! What took you so long?" John asked as the detective entered the shared flat.  
"I was held up with someone."  
"Someone?"  
"A girl to be exact." Sherlock gave John the cold coffee in his hand and sat down in his chair.  
"What's her name?" John asked as he took a sip of the drink.  
"(Name) Moriarty."  
And that was when John spit out his drink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's one am and yeah. basically a lot of this chapter is taken from a starkid skit that i highly recommend. just wanted to get a new chapter out. story isnt dead yet. yipee.

Sebastian stared at (Name) in shock, coffee staining his shirt. "Wait, what?! You- WHAT?!"  
"Ooooo!" Moriarty smiled at his little sister. "You two met at the coffee shop, then?"  
"Y-yeah. He helped me order. Cuz... Y'know... I'm-I'm not good with people." (Name) muttered. Moriarty nodded. "I understand completely. Listen, (Name), we'll get you set up. I know EXACTLY how to make the men swoon."

  
John stared, wide eyed, at his companion. "You-you met?"  
"(Name) Moriarty, yes."  
"And what-what did you do?!"  
"I bought her coffee." Sherlock answered simply, pulling out his phone. "So, you bought Moriarty's..." John trailed off.  
"Sister."  
"Moriarty's sister... You bought her coffee?! I didn't even know he had a sis-"  
"Of course he has a sister, John. It was painfully obvious. He tries much too hard, too hard to NOT have another family member to support. I thought, 'perhaps it could be his mother?' But then I realized, 'No! That can't be it! Maybe its a brother with a drug addiction!' And then I said, 'No!' And I realized..." Sherlock paused, picking up the tea John had previously been drinking and taking a sip. "Is this Earl Grey?"  
John stared at him, mouth agape. "Why y-"  
"John, shush up. I realized that he had a sister. He wears a scarf that she created for him as well as a bowtie. Remember that weekend when he sent us a letter about not being able to cause crime for a week?" John nodded. "He was at an (favorite show) convention with her. She would've gone alone, but she has social anxiety and hates being alone in public. He came back with a new suit, remember? She had bought the suit on their trip, as thanks for him taking her. He, of course, didn't like it, but she's his sister, so he tolerated it. Unfortunately she's not quite as smart as she could be."

"Sherlock, is this going anywhere?" John rolled his eyes. "Yes, John, I was just getting to that. It seems we have a case."

 

The (hair colored) girl sat on Lestrade's desk, a small smile on her face. She was listening to him ramble on about Sherlock Holmes though she already knew everything about him, praising his work. "He's a prick!" Donovan said as she passed Lestrade's office. "At least he isn't having an affair with Anderson..." The woman scoffed. "Oh, God. Not another one." Donovan rolled her eyes and walked off.  
"How'd you know, Darling?" Lestrade asked, softly tracing patterns on (Name)'s leg. "Oh-oh, well... I..." She paused. "There's burn marks from a carpet on her knees, her hair is a mess... It was that or her husband is abusing her."  
"Oh." Lestrade said simply. "(Name), Darling... Maybe one day you could work for us as another detective..."  
"I... have a thing about dating coworkers." (Name) blushed and looked away from the man. "Well, then, we'll just have to..." He reached up, about to kiss her until Sherlock and John entered the room. Lestrade instantly pulled back, eyes wide.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the two. "Gay."  
"Huh?"  
"She's gay. Clearly."  
"Sherlock, we've been dating for five months now and have known each other for over ten! How dare you say that!" Lestrade stood up from his chair, placing his hands on his desk. (Name) held up her hands before pushing her boyfriend back down. "Easy there, tiger. I'm not gay, Mr. Holmes. I go for anyone, but I am in a relationship currently, so. And if anyone is gay... It certainly isn't me." She smirked, looking at John. "Hi there, Mr. Watson." She waved at him.  
"I... We aren't g-"  
"No one said you two were."

"John, stop fighting with her. Lestrade, what's the case?"  
"A bomb. We have no idea where and can't find what these hints mean. You'll be working with (Name) on this case. She... She has certain... Skills." Lestrade smiled at the woman. "Oh... I have lots of skills." She smirked down at him.

"Sherlock, could I talk to you outside for a moment?" John asked in a rushed tone. Sherlock nodded as John took his arm and pulled him outside. "You said she'd have social anxiety!" He yelled in a whisper. "She does. She's just a master assassin who is also a master actress."  
"I refuse to believe that."  
"Well, I can't change your mind abou-" Sherlock was cut off as (Name) poked her head out to look at them. "Mr Holmes? Mr Watson? I hate to interrupt you, but... We have a bomb to look for."

 

Sherlock and John woke up exactly fifty minutes later, both tied to chairs. "Sherlock..." John paused, shaking his head. "where are you?" John asked. "I'm right behind you, John. We are tied together on the top of a nuclear bomb."  
"A masked man ambushed us... How long have I been out and where is (Name)?"  
"We've been here about fifty minutes and (Name) is in on it."  
"Well, quite the predicament we're in." John looked down at the bomb.  
"Yes... Now be quiet I am trying to think."  
"I've been quiet for the past fifty minutes!"  
"No you haven't!"  
"I've been passed out, yes I have!" John insisted. "You were dreaming too loud! I could hardly hear myself think! Now be quiet!"  
"I am being quiet!"  
"No, really, be quiet. They're here."

Jim entered the room, light flooding in, he was followed by the (hair colored) girl from before. The two Moriarty's both had slung their jackets over their shoulders. "Hello, boys. Is that a bomb under your chairs or are you just happy to see us?" The male smirked, flinging his jacket at Sherlock's face. "Moriarty. I should've known..." John muttered. "Yah! You should have, actually! It should've been obvious when you saw (Name)!" (Name) had walked around, softly whistling to herself. She took her jacket and flung it at John. "Am I doing this right?" She asked Jim. He nodded and gave her a thumbs up. "You're doing wonderful, Darling."  
"Yes. Good job, (Name)." Sherlock complimented, earning a small squeak from the girl. "Anyway, Sherlock, for the sake of our dear friend Mr. Watson why don't you explain how you knew I was the mastermind behind this operation?" Jim smiled. "Easy. When we were ambushed, we were held at gunpoint by a man in a mask. But what else was he wearing and, more importantly, what WASN'T he wearing?"

"I dunno... Underwear." John replied. "True."  
"Guilty!" Jim smiled. "Were we supposed to?" (Name) asked, mimicking her brother's smile, and looking straight into John's eyes. A faint blush covered his cheeks in response.  
Sherlock coughed to regain his companion's attention. "Actually I was thinking gloves. You see, what criminal takes the measures to cover his face, but not his fingerprints? One that wants to be caught."  
"Only by you, our dear Sherlock." Jim and (Name) had begun to circle the two, amused by their current situation.  
"He was also holding a gun in his right hand, but very awkwardly, so I deduced from that and the smudge marks on his left hand that he had recently been writing something. A letter, perhaps... But then I noticed it was a W, so perhaps a grocery list, but then I flipped it around for it to be an M as in mango or Moriarty! And, considering Moriarty's only friend is his sister, I deduced it was a ransom note." Sherlock continued, eyes glued to the female.

Jim began clapping. "You see, Watson," (Name) paused in front of the blond. She tilted her head, a smirk on her lips "It's elementary."  
"Sherlock, she hacked our DVR!" John exclaimed. "This is all very nice, but I'm afraid it won't do you any good. You see in six minutes, that bomb is going to go off and we will be safely away." Jim gestured to his sister. "You'll never get away with this, Moriartys!"  
"Uh... Yes we will!" The two shrugged. "Perhaps this time, but we will diffuse this bomb and save Britain."  
"Oh really? And why is that?"  
"Because you don't want to kill me."  
"Well, no shit, Sherlock! I'm not about to take away my sister's new toy! And if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. No... I-we want... to BUUURN you, but you're right. There is an answer to this problem. (Name)?" Jim nodded to his sister as if to say, 'you've got this.'

"It's just under your skin. Always is. Right in the palm of your hand. Good luck, Mr. Holmes."  
"And we do mean good luck. Because, if you die here..." Jim smirked. "We'll just be so... Bored." He grabbed his sister's hand. Her hand darted out and she grabbed her jacket off of John's lap. "Off you go, then. Catch you later." Sherlock said.  
"No you won't!" Moriarty sang as they left.

"Holy shit." John began, eyes wide. "Sherlock, what was that?"  
"That, my dear Watson, was a look at our newest adversary." Sherlock answered, a smile gracing his features. "She's... Definitely a new girl."  
"Actually, Watson, I was thinking Brooklyn nine nine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there it is!! i have. no ideas on how to continue this if it isnt obvious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everythings getting updated today apparently

You could have been doing better. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, obviously about to.

You were on a stakeout mission. Black circular glasses sat on your face, hair up in a simple bun. Jim had said it would be simple and all you had to do was sit there, however the park just got busier and busier and busier until... You snapped.   
A man had sat down next to you, clearly not seeing you were distressed. You already wanted him dead.

"Hey, hot stuff." You remained silent, staring down at the phone in your hands. "Alright, alright. Quiet type. I like quiet types. 'M Brad, how about you, sweetcheeks?"  
You looked up at him. He was /gross/. You HAD someone you were already interested in and he was not it. Maybe if he were tall dark and handsome, but he was not. He was NOT your latest obsession, nor was he your target.   
You frowned and went back to staring at your phone.

"Alright, then. I'll just name you myself. What about Kitten? That good enough." You swallowed. Did this guy not realize you were uncomfortable and in mid-panic attack?  
He smelled like smoke and year old trash, but not the good type of smoke. Not what He smelled like. And you knew the difference. You stalked Sherlock for weeks to simply learn his schedule and smell.   
He smelled like scotch and good smoke. You weren't aware if he actually did smoke or not, but you were fine if he did or did not.

The gross stranger soon realized you weren't going to answer him.   
"What's wrong, babe? You some kinda weird mute freak?"

That was when you snapped. You stood up, slammed your phone onto the bench, and, with a very menacing smile, spoke.   
"I think you should leave me alone before you learn what your insides look like. A man can live several days without his intestines. Do you want to see what they look like?" You asked, voice cracking due to the fact tears now ran down your face. His own face flushed and he sunk back in his seat.  
"I-I-"  
"I know how to take you apart and make you live long enough to see yourself eaten by dogs. Would you like that?"  
"N-No! No, ma'am."  
"Good. Then I suggest you leave."

And he did. Gross stranger gone, you sat back down. Only to be knocked out.

//////

Mycroft Holmes was a simple man. He liked cake and umbrellas. He liked rain. He... well, he was also very aware of the crush a certain girl had on his brother.  
A little too aware.

He was also aware said girl was the sister to the most well known, and only, consulting criminal in Britain.  
He tsk'd. His brother was an idiot. That was for sure.

///////

You took a deep breath, gasping for air as you came to. Your hands were bound behind you to a chair. Everything else was free.   
You sighed, rolling your neck to look around the empty warehouse.   
Empty except for the other chair in front of you.

You suspected someone REALLY wanted to have a meeting with you.   
And, like usual, you were right.

"(Name) Moriarty. Assassin, James Moriarty's sister, dangerous."  
"Well, Mr Holmes, you certainly do your research,"   
"Mycroft please."   
"Oh, my apologies, your highness. Mycroft. That's what I named my second grade goldfish."  
"Miss (Name), I should warn you that I am in a position to arrest you."  
"You aren't going to. You want information."  
"Yes."  
"Your brother?"  
"You've been stalking him."

You shrugged. "What can I say? I have a lot of free time."   
"I want to pay you to continue that."  
"W-what?"  
"Pay for you to stalk my brother."  
"I heard you- just... What?" You shook your head.

Mycroft tsk'd again. "You are a smart woman, (Name). Figure it out."   
"You want to pay me, Jim Moriarty's sister, to stalk YOUR brother?"  
"Yes."  
"Well, okay then. Yes."   
"Great. I will arrange for you to be dropped off at your flat." Mycroft stood up, taking his umbrella from the side. He turned to leave.

"Oh, Mycroft?"  
"Yes?"  
"Say hi to the queen for me." You smirked. His frown deepened as he took off.

  
/////

"Sherlock, there's mail."  
"There's usually mail, John."  
"Mail for you."  
"Oh. Give it here then."

"...."  
"Well, what does it say?"  
"Here's your half. Love, Moriarty."  
"Why would he send you a letter with cash in it."

Sherlock smirked. "It was his sister, Watson."  
"How do you know."  
"Elementary, John..." He looked out the window at the woman staring at him through her binoculars. "Elementary."


	4. Mutual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow two chapters in one day.

Your relationship with Sherlock could be summed up in a simple word. So simple that no one would even think about it. Not Watson, not your brother, not even Mycroft.

It was mutual.

But that didn't mean anything without a little context.

  
You were on a case. Well, case being used very lightly. You were on a case like Mycroft was on a diet.  
That was to say, you weren't.

But what you were was on a little job called 'Killing a Man Named Dick.' You had chuckled when Jim told you. He had, in turn, laughed as well. You loved your brother's laugh. You hadn't heard it in years and, oh, it was so good to hear it again.  
You asked where to shoot. He specified you weren't to kill him, telling you to aim for somewhere non vital. You had laughed and told him to not underestimate your skills. That was what got your last three partners killed.

That had earned you another laugh and a pat on the head.

So, there was your current MO. You sat atop a building across from Dick's flat, waiting for him to come into frame. A sniper sat on it's holder next to you. You simply moved your legs back and forth, laying on your stomach, binoculars in hands.  
It was perfect.  
Until it wasn't.

Dick had gotten home exactly on time, but had shown up with... Guests. A man with curly dark hair, a purple shirt, and... Your eyes widened.  
Of course Sherlock would show up on one of your cases. Oh, well. Looked like it was time to show him you meant business.

You rolled over to your gun and gently calibrated it's target. A little to the left, a little to the right... Until you had the perfect shot. Sherlock's partner-- you didn't remember his name-- stood in front of your target as you pulled the trigger.

//////////

"Yes, Mr. Waterson, I understand someone is out to kill you." Sherlock shook his head. "What I am asking is why someone would want to kill such an insignificant person such as your-"  
"Sherlock!" John exclaimed, hitting the man with his glove. "Apologies, Mr. Waterson, Sherlock is having a bad day."  
Dick nodded his head. "We all have bad days, I suppose. Mine just happens to be that someone is out to kill me."  
"Nonsense. Not important enough."  
"Jesus, Sherlock."  
"John, look at him. Scraggy clothes, hair undone, marks on his..." Sherlock moved his hands as he spoke and they suddenly paused in thin air as he came to a conclusion. "Listen and listen carefully because I will not say it twice. Mr Waterson, stand to the left a few paces."  
"Sherlock, why?"  
"We have a sniper." Sherlock replied simply. "A-a sniper?!"  
"Yes and you are very lucky. One of the best around."

"Well, what do I do?"  
"Just... Stand there."  
"Sherlock, this is preposterous." John muttered, taking a stance in front of Dick.

The bullet rolled through the air.  
It rolled a critical 20.

It hit the client straight in his upper thigh, going straight through the femoral artery. It went right over John's shoulder, clipping his sweater.  
Dick fell to the ground with a thump, blood rushing from his leg.

A loud, "GOD DAMMIT" rung through the air.

John seemed to fall into action right away. "Sherlock, call 999."  
"No."  
"What?"  
"I'm going to go catch our sniper."  
"What?"  
"I know who she is."  
'Wait, but-!"

He was already gone. John stared at the man below him in horror before composing himself and, with a bloody hand, calling emergency services.

////

You had missed. You were aiming for his lower leg until John had came into shot and messed you up. You cursed to yourself as you witnessed Sherlock leaving the flat. You needed to pack up and get out of there.  
As quickly as you could, you packed your sniper, taking it apart piece by piece. You placed it in your black suitcase and began your journey to leaving the roof you were situated on.

Storms began to roll in.  
It rolled a six.

  
Sherlock was close. Too close. He waited, umbrella in hand, as you power walked down the steps. He simply stepped in front of you as you made it down.  
Panic ran through your head.

"You've been stalking me."  
"You've been stalking me." You replied, trying to get him out of your way. He side stepped to block you. "So I have."  
"Sherlock, listen, I need to go."  
"I know."  
"Then let me leave."  
"No."  
"Why?"

"I want to make an agreement."  
"God you Holmes and your bloody agreements... Okay what is it?"  
"Coffee shop by my flat. 8 am sharp." He pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket. "Tell this to the woman at the counter."  
"Um."  
"Goodbye, (Name)." He left with a sharp turn of his heel. He took the umbrella with him. You cursed to yourself.

  
Your relationship with Sherlock could be summed up in two words.

Mutual agreement.


	5. Chapter 5

You were five when your brother got away with his first murder. He discreetly told you to never tell anyone and, like the good sister you were, you nodded and went along with it.  
That was the point he realized it would be good to have you around.

You did everything together. You played, walked, killed, everything!  
You loved your brother.

Until, you got sent away. You spent years at a boarding school for "troubled" youngsters. There you met Seb, a nice kid who had an eye for precision. So you sent him Jim's way with a little, "good luck." And that relationship ended up going everywhere!  
Then when you had graduated, you were hit with the news that your parents had passed. Sad, of course. You... weren't as sad as Jim. That was, to say, you were not sad at all. You spared a glance at your brother from underneath the gazebo. He stood off to the side, black umbrella in hand, Sebby at his side. He was stoic as usual. Seb had placed a hand on his shoulder and led him away.  
Like leading a lamb to the slaughter, you had thought with a frown.

You had followed your brother to the car, still frowning. You made a joke about putting the fun in funeral and Jim just huffed.  
God you missed his laugh.  
He hadn't even spared you a smile since you had gotten back. Now 19 with a 23 year old Jim, he barely cared.  
That's when the stutter came in. You had a small one before, of course, but now it had just gotten worse. Not as confident as you had been.  
Your brother WAS your confidence and now he was ignoring you like you were nothing.

You stared out the window, frowning as the buildings passed. Seb drove, blonde hair pulled back in a tiny ponytail. He was actually cute. Much more handsome than the Seb you had met in school.

The next day and you were on a plane to America. He had sent you away again. Dejected, you couldn't find it in yourself to be... Well, yourself. Seb gave you a hug before you left, Jim didn't even come. He simply bought the ticket and sent you off.  
You swallowed hard.

  
There you had met a well... VERY dashing young detective. Lestrade, his name was. Scotland Yard's best upcoming detective. Dashing at the time, of course. He was married, it seemed. You had told him not to cheat on her, after all she was already having an affair. He looked at you like you were crazy. You had simply shrugged.  
He asked how you knew and you told him it was obvious. He thought you were crazy.  
Several years later and his fears were confirmed by Sherlock Holmes himself.

After that, you didn't have time. You put your everything into working. It was, after all, all you had. You swore off the death business.

Then a new man had come along. He went by the simple name of Edward and you asked if his last name was Hyde. He had laughed and told you it was, asking how you knew.  
You shook your head and just chuckled along.  
He had stolen your heart and soul, eventually to the point where you two were dependent on each other. Your stutter had gotten better, anxiety slowly decreasin over your relationship. He was good for you.

Bright green eyes were there every morning you woke up and there everytime you fell asleep. He liked to look at you. You were certainly beautiful, of course. He wouldn't expect anything less from the Moriarty family. He was a little touch of sin mixed in with the most beautiful ray of sunshine.  
You had been together for such a long time, even going as far as considering marriage. He proposed, of course, but you had said he didn't want to get involved with your family.  
He chuckled and told you your family was amazing because it was yours. With a sad smile, you had laughed.

He had the nerve to cheat on you.  
You came home from work early one day, planning on surprising him for his birthday. You knew he wouldn't be home for another hour or so, so you prepared to make dinner. All his favorites.  
You walked in with your grocery bags, smile on your face an skip in your step. Only to hear... something from your room. A creaking that stopped when you closed the door.

You had made your way over to it after grabbing one of the knives for protection. The door creaked open slowly and you stuck your head in.  
Of COURSE he had some hussy in your bed! Your eyes had fallen, hands just further gripping the knife. He turned to you, eyes wide. She had a smirk on your face. Your fingers were itching to be around her homewrecking neck.  
You shook your head. You had sworn off the killing people business.

He looked at you, saying your name once. He almost said it a second time, but you had rushed forward to do something much to graphic to be described. The woman had screamed and your fingers, itching to kill, simply wrapped around her neck.  
You had laughed.

Your blood covered hands went to Edward's phone as it rang. Richard Brooks flashed across the screen. You answered it with a sing song tone of "Hello~"  
"Hello, sister dear." The voice replied.  
"J-Jim?"  
"Yes, my dear. Seems like you could use some help." Your eyes glanced around the room.  
"Where-where are you?" You stutered out.  
"Oh, no. I'm not there. Tiger on the other hand..."  
"Tiger?"  
"Sebby dear."  
"... Tiger?"  
"Yes because he's-"  
"I... I don't want to know, Jim."

He chuckled. Not a laugh, you noticed. Fake chuckle.  
"I should alert you the police are on there way. I suggest you take the fire escape. Get in the red car in front of your flat. You have five minutes." Your eyes widened.  
"You-you CALLED the police on me?!"  
"No. Your neighbors did. Should've payed attention to the door in your bloodlust, dear." You could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Good luck."

And just like that, you were back in the death business. Moriartys were bad luck, you remember someone saying to you.  
Maybe they were right.  
You were just bad luck.


	6. Bonding time with the murder siblings

"So, Sherlock, then?" Jim asked, looking up from his deck of cards. You nodded and hummed. He smiled. "Well, can't say I approve." 

"Don't need your approval." You replied simply.   
"Someone is snappy today. Did our dear detective do something?"   
"Made me miss my target... Stupid Watson."  
"We could kill him."  
"No we couldn't. Then both the Holmes would really want our heads." You chewed on your thumb nail, staring down at your own cards. You tchd as you picked another up.   
"Trouble, darling?"  
"No... just... Thinking." You muttered, teeth going to tug on your lower lip.

Jim smirked. His eyes seemed to watch someone walk by you and his expression disappeared.   
"That man that just passed us looked at you."  
"Lotsa guys look at me, brother."  
"Really?"  
"At-at least half of the people I pass give me that look."  
"Oooo Miss Snappy sure is popular." You didn't have to look to know he was smirking.

"Well, being a Moriarty does that to you."   
"Not to me. Never to me."  
"Oh don't be so modest."   
"No one these days really... has the pleasure to see me face to face."   
"They wouldn't be impressed."   
"Rude."  
"I only speak the truth, Jim."   
"Your stutter is improving."   
"It isn't. I'm just... focused on this."

Jim tutted. "Now whos being modest?"   
You shook your head and placed down your cards. "I win."   
He glanced over them and, with a frown, dropped his own cards. "So you do, dear. So you do."   
"Beaten by your little sister? Better study-Ah... Stu-study up better, mister mastermind." He chuckled.

///

The water picked the cards up from the table as the two murderous siblings left. He glanced at the brother's cards in curiosity.   
Odd.   
The brother had won, but went along with the sister winning.

The waiter frowned.


End file.
